Welcome to Gaia! ::

The minimon or the vocalepus might sneak in through the closet on the rare occasion, but for the most part he only has Batzy and Jackdammit<33 I'm holding out for a custom for his third pet.

Actually I think I'll have him get the wishing comet after a few months at school for his third pet<3

A running plot idea:
Roch wants to compose a song that he will eventually (think post school) be able to play completely through using FEAR. It'll be called "Death's Lullaby" and will be extremely handy when reaping in the real world. Ironically without the FEAR it's going to be a sweet, eerie sounding song that's strangely soothing. But with the FEAR it will be powerful enough to reap an entire hospice of people who are ready to go.

Often he'll be found in the library, studying composition books and writing music. Possibly cursing at himself because it's difficult.

Another small side note:
The cross earrings and other little crosses you'll see/hear about him having -- he's not a Christian, but they suddenly started showing up. His dad seems to think it's a sign he'll specialize in reaping Christians, just like rosary beads showed up for him when he was a kid, and his dad's got a crescent moon with a star for an earring. It's got very little to do with religion, more of a "job calling."

Tweaked his personality a bit after rp'ing him, and decided to post another solo.
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Their Little Reaper

There was a fight going on. The fenced off lot was full of shouting and cheering as the two males in the middle battled. The strange thing about the scene, though, was the difference in size of the opponents.

Fang grunted, wiping at the blood that was trickling from his mouth and looking at the kid that had just busted up his jaw with his elbow. He casually reached up, popping the jaw back in place. “Not bad. Did Sting teach you that one?”

“My jaw doesn’t heal as fast as yours does, so I dodged it,” Roch said, smirking and wiping the sweat off his brow. He held up a fist, summoning his guitar. All of thirteen years old, he had been in more fights than any of them bothered to count. But it wasn’t really a fight. This was training.

“Bones,” Austin said, appearing beside the old skeleton silently. Bones jerked, turning to look at the reaper for a moment before nodding and turning back to watch the fight. “How’s he doing?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bones said as the thirteen year old boy swung his guitar, only to be dodged. “He gets antsy when he hears you’ve been around.”

“He’s my kid.”

“He’s ours,” Bones said, digging through his tattered coat and bringing out his flask. The sound of his bones clacking together mixed with the sloshing of liquid over bones dripping to the wooden bench that the skeleton was sitting on. “We’re raisin’ him.” He cheered as the guitar connected this time, sending the wolf back a few paces before Fang recovered his balance.

“Why?”

Bones looked up at the reaper, a bit surprised at the question. “Why not? Only reaper that’ll ever come from the slums, we damn well don’t want him to look like a pansy.”

“Distraction, boy! Use a jackin’ distraction!” one of the old zombie ladies from the neighborhood bellowed, waving an arm in her opposite hand.

“Thanks Mrs. Wheedle!” Roch bellowed, bringing up the guitar and making it shriek in agony. Fang grasped his ears, bending double with the pain, and Roch grabbed his arms, kicking up with a knee shot straight to the face. Austin let out a bellow of appreciation, but it was hidden by the cheers of most of the neighborhood.

“Why a werewolf, though?” Austin yelled to get Bones to hear him.

“Yesterday we brought in a vampire!” Bones yelled back. “Uptown b*****d we had to drag back here, but we figured today we’d go with someone from the neighborhood!” The crowd had gotten quiet again by this point, so Bones’s voice lowered as well. “Only thing he hasn’t learned to deal with are ghosts.”

“Ghosts,” Austin repeated darkly. “Don’t tell me he’s still not over that!”

“He sees a ghost in the lot he runs away as if the devil himself was on his tail,” Bones said with disgust.

“Go for the balls! Go for the balls!!” Mrs. Wheedle screamed.

“That old lady scares me,” Austin said idly.

“Best coach the boy’s got for fighting dirty,” Bones admitted. “Your boy, he’s pretty tough, but he’s got the softest heart I ever seen. It bothers all of us.”

“He hates me,” Austin said. “Can’t be that soft.”

“That’s just proof he’s soft,” Bones said. “Because if he were like you at that age, he’d have already tried to kill you.”

“Hey, I had a damn good reason for trying to kill my old man,” Austin argued.

“So does he.”

Roch grunted as a massive fist slammed into his gut, shoving all the air out of him. He barely managed to dodge as the fist went up and came down backwards, aiming for his head. He rolled on the ground, getting back to his feet and looking for his guitar. Somehow he had dropped it--

There, he thought, racing for the guitar and scooping it up. He had barely stood straight when a fist came out of nowhere, slamming into his jaw. It was like being hit by a boulder. He fell to the ground, turning to spit out blood and taking a second to wiggle one of his teeth with his tongue. It seemed to still be good, so he got to his feet, popping his neck. “You hit pretty good,” he told the were, trying to ignore how his jaw was throbbing with pain.

“You need to remember that your scythe is a part of you, right?” Fang said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let it disappear and bring it back in your hand, don’t go chasin’ after it. Your elbow’s good, but tighten your arm a bit more when you do it. And here--“ He reached down, grabbing Roch’s hand and arranging it so the palm was up and the fingers curled. “Right here’s a good way of hitting someone. This way you got a straight shot with your entire arm, see? Like a battering ram.”

“Oh... huh, thanks, Fang,” Roch said, looking at his hand curiously.

“What about his ma?” Bones asked Austin as they watched the training talk begin.

“What, has he been asking about her?” Austin asked, digging through his pockets and pulling out a tattered pack of cighoulettes. “She’s long gone.”

“He never asks.” Bones was silent for a long moment. “But it’s been the talk of the neighborhood. That and those earrings of his. They’re crosses.”

“Oh,” Austin said, not sounding very bothered. “I wondered when it’d happen.”

“What happen? They don’t sell crosses in the stores around here! Hell, in all of Halloween--“ He stopped as Austin dug through the inner pockets of his leather trenchcoat, pulling out a long string of beads with a strange cross hanging from it. There was a small man pinned to the cross.

“This is what I got when I was about his age. It’s a symbol of sorts for a religious group. They’re called Catholics,” Austin said, fingering the smooth, pretty beads before shoving it back into his pocket. “You could say I specialize in reaping them. My old man’s got a crescent moon with a star in it for an earring. Those are called Muslims. Looks like Rochester will specialize in Christians.”

“But he’s just a kid from the ghetto--why would he have--“ Bones fell silent as Austin’s expression went grim, the corner of his mouth pulling back slightly.

“Don’t ask questions about things you don’t need to know,” Austin said coldly, his voice seeming to echo in Bones’s skull, even though he said it quietly.

It took Bones a few long moments to shake off the terror that voice incited, and Austin was gone before he managed to form another question. “Hate when he does that,” Bones muttered, starting to take another drink from his flask.

“Does what?” Roch asked, almost giving Bones a heart attack even though he had no heart.

“You done? It’s time for your guitar lessons,” Bones said, not answering the question.

“Think I busted a knuckle on his face,” Roch complained, looking at his hand.

“Then you’ll learn how to play one handed!” Bones said.

“Jackdammit, that’s just not possible!” Roch complained, looking around for a moment and sniffing the air. It smelled like-- nah. He was imagining things. “At least give me the day off!”

“How the hell am I going to teach you both bass and acoustic before you run off to school if I give you a day off? Suck it up, boy and get moving! The lunch crowd should be coming in, and I’m broke again!”

“You’re just milking me for booze money!”

“You gotta be good for something!”